


Warrior of Redwall

by miss_tatiana



Category: Redwall Series - Brian Jacques
Genre: AU, Canon Compliant, F/M, Roleswap, cornflower is the abbey warrior au, just a retelling, otherwise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-02-28 19:52:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13278693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_tatiana/pseuds/miss_tatiana
Summary: Cornflower Fieldmouse, eldest child and kitchen helper, spends as much time in Redwall Abbey as she can. It isn't just the shelter, or the company, it's the history that draws her to the place. Inspired by legends of old Abbey warriors, Cornflower dreams the day away coming up with adventures to go on and villains to fight. But when an actual warlord shows up at the Abbey door, will Cornflower be able to become the person the spirit of Redwall needs her to be?cornflower is the abbey warrior au





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this will be several chapters long. i'm planning to skip through the book and just write about the important/momentous parts of the story, re-imagining it through cornflower's eyes. enjoy!

“Cornflower? Cornflower… Cornflower!”

The young field mouse pulled herself out of her thoughts and found herself looking right at Friar Hugo, the head chef of Redwall Abbey kitchens. “Yes, Friar?” She felt guilty, and stared down at the half-kneaded bread dough in her paws. She knew that hard work and diligence were what made her important to the Abbey, but she couldn’t stop her thoughts from drifting off to something… bigger. More adventurous. Especially, sadly, when there was lots of work to be done in the kitchen. 

“Is your mind somewhere else, child?” Friar Hugo eyed her not angrily but disapprovingly. 

“I- I was just…” Cornflower hung her head further. “Yes, Friar.” She looked up, then, paws folding the dough with new vigor. “But I can’t help think that there must be more than Abbey life. Adventure, travel, you know.” She sighed.

Friar Hugo walked around the table to join her, sprinkling more flour down on it for the dough to pick up. “Well, many of our greatest champions, our Abbey warriors, travelled before they came to us. Some even after. There definitely is more out there. But not before our Abbott’s Jubilee feast.” He chuckled. “We need to hurry up if we want everything prepared for tonight.”

The feast, right. Cornflower had almost forgotten. She wrapped the dough up in paper and put it into the oven to bake, moving quickly on to the next task, her thoughts still hanging onto the Friar’s words. She made sure not to lose herself and stop working, but she couldn’t get the thought of Martin, the first and most heroic warrior the Abbey ever had. He had helped the first Abbess found the Abbey after defeating hordes and hordes of vermin. He certainly wouldn’t let himself get stuck doing kitchen work. She sighed. 

The rest of the day passed quickly and hectically, the entire Abbey kitchens a scrambled mess of trying to get everything for the feast finished in time for that night. They did it, just as they always did, by the skin of their teeth. As the sun set over the grounds outside and creatures from Mossflower and the surrounding fields streamed through the gates for the feast, the dishes were finally finished.

Cornflower was proud of the results, as she always was, and she let go of the stress of the day as she brought the food from the kitchens with all the other chefs, following the Friar like an entourage. When they entered the Great Hall, she could see the entire Mossflower community smiling up at her and the other chefs. 

Friar Hugo made a short speech to Abbot Mortimer about the main course, and then served him. Everyone in the Hall waited with bated breath until the Abbot spoke, and when he did it was naturally all praise. Then the whole Hall surged up to serve themselves, and when everyone had settled back into their places, Cornflower made herself a plate and took it over to her family. 

Cornflower’s mother gave her paw a squeeze. “The food is amazing, sweetheart. I think this will be the best feast I’ve ever attended. Your cooking is just getting better and better.”

“Mom…” Cornflower complained, blushing slightly and pulling her paw away. “It was mostly the other chefs, I just helped out.”

“You could make a meal out of anything,” her mother insisted. 

“She got that from you, darling,” Cornflower’s father added on, nudging his wife. 

Cornflower put her head in her paws. It was easier to pretend she was embarrassed of her family than to admit how much she loved them. She was lucky to have them, even though her parents were sappy and her younger siblings annoyed her. 

“Hey! Cornflower!” A paw went up from the table across the room, and then, after almost tripping over the floor-stones on his way over, Matthias made a spot for himself between Cornflower and her little brother. “I-”

“You caught the fish?” Cornflower offered, turning to him. 

“Yes!” Matthias exclaimed. “Brother Alf and I- it was enormous!” He stretched his paws out as far as they would go, miming the size of the fish. “But it didn’t give us any trouble. We reeled it right in…” 

The rest of the night passed happily, joyously even, it passed just as a Jubilee should pass. It was full of talking with neighbors and friends, meeting creatures new to the neighborhood and being united over a love of the amazing Abbey food. Abbot Mortimer spoke to the Hall as he did every Jubilee, telling the creatures how lucky he was to have them, and how lucky they all were to have peace in the forest. Cornflower talked with her parents and with Matthias, and laughed off the complements she got about the food. 

Finally, the night was winding down, and the creatures who lived further into Mossflower woods or the fields around it would be given a ride home in the Abbey cart, pulled by Constance, the strongest member of Redwall. After a day of working and a night of feasting, Cornflower was definitely ready to head home and go to sleep. She carried one of her siblings to the cart, and her father carried the other, and they and the other families who lived the furthest away climbed inside. Right before the cart began to move, so did Matthias. 

“What are you doing here?” Cornflower asked, nudging him. 

He was holding a staff, and had a serious expression on his face. “I’m here to protect you. All of you.”

Cornflower smiled. “But-”

“Just in case, alright?” Matthias looked nervous. 

“Alright,” Cornflower said, and she took the staff from his paws and set it down between them. “Though I doubt anything will come up.”

Nothing had come up for seasons. Since Cornflower had been born, the Abbey and its surrounding woods were the most peaceful place a creature could dream of, no contention between its inhabitants, all the creatures only wanting to help each other and perpetuate their era of peace. She knew there was war in the Abbey’s history, and those old enough to remember it wanted to prevent it from coming again.

The night sky was beautiful, stars hanging above the cart like leaves on a tree. Constance padded slowly and carefully down the Abbey road, the cart in her wake. Some of the younger creatures inside were already asleep, and the older ones were silently enjoying the cool breezes blowing off the forest. 

Something broke the silence. First just a steady drum beat, a horse’s hooves on the road in the distance. Then the creaking of a cart being pulled faster than its wheels were made to go. Then the rabble, the screams, the snatches of while conversation and the whinnies of the horse. 

Cornflower found the staff with a paw and climbed to the front of the cart. “Do you hear that?” she whispered to Constance. 

“Aye, I hear it,” Constance murmured. She sounded completely alert, all her senses working to figure out when the other cart would reach them. 

The spectral figure of the crazed horse appeared out of the dusk in the distance, tearing up the road into clouds of dust. 

“Get off the road,” Cornflower whispered. “Constance, get off the road!”

Constance acted immediately, heaving the cart with all her strength into the ditch beside the road. No creatures were sleeping now, and there was a tense hush in the cart as families looked nervously to each other and to their neighbors. 

Cornflower held the staff ready with one paw, and with the other she held onto Matthias’ habit. She wasn’t sure what she could do with one staff to combat a horse and cart, but she was ready nonetheless. And with her paw knotted in the fabric that covered Matthias’ shoulder, she felt more secure.

He was still beside her, eyes trained on the road. 

No one moved. They were too scared to move. 

All of a sudden the cart surged by, it was indeed pulled by a black horse, foaming at the mouth, eyes wide in terror, beating its hooves upon the road in an attempt to run from the thing it was tethered to. The cart itself was full to the brim with vermin. Mostly rats, bigger and rougher than any Cornflower had ever seen. They were singing, fighting, clawing over each other to watch the woods speed by. And riding the horse- riding the horse, claws knotted in its tangled mane, huge tail whipping out behind him, was a nightmare. Clothed in a tattered cape and makeshift armor, spying the road with one eye, was a rat. A nightmare rat, who was so marred and large that it was impossible to tell what kind he was. Maybe a sea rat. He struck the horse with his tail, clawed its neck with his paws, and careened towards Redwall Abbey.

* * *

 

Constance had lead the creatures in the cart back through the woods, away from the road, until they came to the Abbey again. She had decided - and no one would question her - that it was unsafe for woods dwellers to be out tonight, and took them all back to the Abbey, where makeshift beds were being made up for them by some of the brothers. 

Now, Methuselah, the gatekeeper and recorder of Redwall, Abbot Mortimer, Constance, Cornflower, and Matthias were gathered in the Great Hall, trying to figure out what to do about the army headed their way. 

“We must extend hospitality to any and all creatures who come our way,” Mortimer said. He sat in his chair, paws laced and tucked under his chin. 

“They did not want hospitality, Abbot,” Constance assured him. Her voice was low, and the look in her eyes was dark. “Trust me. They had weapons on them.”

The Abbot’s eyes widened, but he cleared his throat and moved on. “It’s our responsibility as creatures of the habit to be accommodating.” 

“Sir,” Cornflower said, stepping forwards. The staff was still tightly clenched in her paw, and she held it out as she addressed the Abbot. 

Matthias, who was propping himself up at a table and trying to stay awake, sat up straight now, eyes trained on the conversation. It was late, but this was about the fate of the Abbey. 

“They’re coming straight for Redwall, there’s nothing else along this road,” Cornflower said slowly, getting caught up in the moment, in the slice of adventure so unlike regular life in Mossflower. “They weren’t a village, or a family, they were an army. They had weapons, just like Constance said, and we need to-” She stopped, catching herself. “There were warriors who fought for this Abbey in the past. We remember them and honor them, so when they fought it couldn’t have been a bad thing.”

Constance nodded immediately. “I agree. We need to prepare for the worst.”

“We may love our past warriors,” said Methuselah quietly, speaking up for the first time since the meeting was called, “but war is never a good thing, never something we want to invite onto our ground. We must assume the best in those creatures, and try to avoid war at all costs. You are young, you have not seen what I have. You cannot fathom the loss of a war.” He pushed his glasses up his nose.

Mortimer stood from his chair. “Thank you, Methuselah. I believe we do not need to trouble ourselves with this thought any longer. We will proceed as brothers and sisters of the Abbey, and we will stay peaceful until they show us aggression.”

That brought an end to  the meeting, but Cornflower was upset. She couldn’t help but think she hadn’t done a good enough job describing the threat to the Abbot, because if he’d seen what they’d seen, he couldn’t deny a fight. There had to be something she could say to convince him. She nodded respectfully to both the Abbot and Methuselah as they left the Great Hall, and then turned to Constance. “How can they-”

“I know. It can get exhausting, living with monks,” Constance commented. She sounded worn out. “Well, you and I can both tell they won’t get the peaceful negotiations they want, not with that lot we saw on the road.”

“What can we do?” Cornflower asked, and she banged the staff onto the floor of the Hall. The inactivity of the Abbey was infuriating. 

“We can tell the creatures staying here what’s going to happen,” Constance said, sighing. “We can be truthful with them, and we can put the option of fighting for the Abbey out there. Eventually, Mortimer will realize what we need to do, and he won’t like it.”

“We need to be preparing now! Fortifying the walls, arming creatures!” Cornflower cried. 

A smile spread up Constance’s snout. “Aren’t you the little warrior? Go off to bed, Fieldmouse, before your parents come asking for you. And put worry out of your mind. When they arrive, we’ll think of something.” 

Cornflower nodded sharply. “Yes, ma’am.” She pulled off her cloak and laid it over Matthias, who had fallen asleep at one of the long tables during the meeting, and then went up the stairs to the room her family had moved into for the night. Her parents had made up a cot for her, and as she sat down on it she realized she was still holding the staff. She laid it down beside the cot and tried to get comfortable under the quilt she had been given. She knew she had to be well rested, but after what she’d seen and heard, she also knew that she wasn’t going to sleep tonight. 


	2. The First Move

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some days after Cluny was first sighted, he made it clear that he would be given the Abbey through surrender or take it by force. The Abbot knows he has no choice but to ready the creatures inside for a war, and Cornflower is more than happy to get some weaponry training from Constance. But she and Methuselah have a suspicion that there has to be a better way to win, and they begin pursuing it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to all who left kudos on the last chapter- hope you enjoy!

_ Some days later. _

The rats had made it clear that they were not going to stand down. Their leader, the big hulking one with the long tail Cornflower had seen on the horse, came in for a meeting and it had gone as badly as possible. He was Cluny, the scourge, and of course he was here for the Abbey. Of course he’d brought an army that would take it by force if they didn’t surrender it to him as they spoke. It was the worst possible outcome of all the awful scenarios Cornflower had pictured as she was trying to sleep the night she first saw them, and it was scarily reminiscent to the tales of past Abbey warriors. They always began with an invasion. The problem was that there wasn’t a warrior to defend the Abbey now. They had nothing. 

Constance had flipped a table, ending the meeting rather hastily, but not before Cluny and his entourage could catch a glimpse of Martin’s tapestry. The symbol and soul of the Abbey. It felt wrong to let them look at it. 

Now, the rats were camped out at St. Ninians, a small, decrepit monastery down the road, and creatures from all over Mossflower had flocked to the Abbey for protection. Constance, to Cornflower’s delight, was able to convince Mortimer they really did need to fight back, and had begun to try and train the monks and woodlanders. 

Cornflower trained with them. They practiced all day, with bows and quarterstaves, with javelins and with their paws. A world of knowledge had been opened up to her, but the further she got into it, the more she could see that the creatures around her were not made for battle. They fumbled with their spears, and couldn’t shoot their arrows straight. 

“I can’t get this,” Matthias admitted. He was short of breath, and they hadn’t finished their sparring session yet. He tossed his staff from hand to hand. 

“Hold it with one paw at a time, not both,” Cornflower tried, not knowing what she was saying beyond how she fought with it. “That way you can turn it quicker and block more angles. And if you have to switch paws, do it fast.”

Constance trundled up behind her. She looked fierce, as always, but there was a glimmer of pride in her eye. “That’s correct, Cornflower.”

Cornflower looked up, beaming. “Really?” She was swinging the staff around like a sword while Matthias got his breath back. 

Constance nodded, and then pointed to the staff with one claw. “That isn’t, though.”

Stilling the staff, Cornflower begun to laugh, and she could hear Constance’s hearty chuckle as she walked away. She faced Matthias. “Alright, are you ready?”

He shrugged. 

They sparred again, and again it was a short time before she had the upper hand. 

When the creatures retired for a break, many of them exhausted and all of them unused to this kind of work, Cornflower and Matthias went to sit in the shade of one of the trees in the Abbey orchard. 

“You’re really good at this stuff,” Matthias commented, absentmindedly tearing up grass with his paw. “I’m not kidding, you’re really, really good.”

Cornflower shrugged. “Maybe. I think it’s more like we’re all really bad but I’m small and quick so I seem better at it.”

Matthias shook his head, laughing a little. “I’m really bad for sure. But you’re… Constance basically told you that you were doing well!”

“I just feel bad about leaving my job in the kitchens,” Cornflower sighed. Now that the Abbey had more inhabitants than ever, having a fully staffed kitchen was very important, but she wouldn’t be able to tear herself away from this training even if she wanted to. Plus, she doubted Constance would stand for her leaving to go back to the kitchens, which made her proud. 

“There are a lot of mouths here to feed now,” Matthias agreed glumly. The predicament, the rats, the promise of invasion, was all taking a toll on him. There was a sadness about the creatures who’d had to leave their forest homes for protection that was rubbing off on him. Also, the Abbey was the only home he’d ever known. To lose it to Cluny would mean losing everything.

“Any of these creatures would probably be glad for a break from Constance’s training to do some kitchen work,” Cornflower said, trying to lighten the mood. 

“I know I would.” Matthias began braiding blades of grass together. 

Cornflower nudged his shoulder with hers. “Why don’t you go then? They could use you, I’m sure.”

Matthias instantly began to protest. He didn’t want to make it seem like he wasn’t interested in protecting the Abbey. “I’ve never really cooked before, and I’m not sure I can-”

“Just go,” Cornflower said, laughing. “It’s still a huge contribution to all this.” She gestured to the makeshift weapons and tired trainees around them. “A key part in making a good resistance is having food to feed it.”

“Okay.” Matthias sprang to his feet. “Okay, I’ll go. I’ll see you later, though. Tell me how it goes.”

Cornflower was still laughing. “I will!” she called after him, watching him run across the grounds and disappear into the Abbey. Even after he was gone, she still smiled. There was something about Matthias that she could never get out of her head. He was always excited for things, no matter how or if he was involved with them. He made the best out of bad situations. He always knew the right thing to say to fix a conversation, or lighten a mood. He loved playing with and caring for her little siblings. He had a nice smile. Alright, maybe it was more than one thing. 

She did spend time thinking about Matthias, before all this had started. Now, her mind was usually occupied with training and weapons and trying to remember all the maneuvers Constance yelled at her and the other creatures, and didn’t have lots of room left for a cute Abbey mouse in a habit that was too big for him. She obviously made some room, though, she chastised herself. 

She got up from the shade of the tree, stretching. When she grabbed the quarterstaff from the grass, she held it again like a sword. She didn’t know why, but the movements felt more powerful, more right. She swung it left and right, brought it up to parry the blade of an imaginary enemy. 

When she looked beyond the sword - staff - to the grounds beyond, she saw old Methuselah, the gatekeeper, watching her. 

Upon seeing she was aware of him, he beckoned her over with the wave of a paw. 

Cornflower was a little bit confused. She hadn’t spoken to Methuselah since the meeting after the first sighting of the cart, and she didn’t really know him all that well, as she’d never lived at the Abbey before this. But she crossed the grounds all the same, and followed him into the gatehouse. 

“You have talent with the blade,” Methuselah remarked, the first thing he said. He poured two cups of mint tea and handed her one before settling down into a well worn chair. The chair sat in front of a table that was overflowing with books, scrolls, and other documents. Not just recent ones. Methuselah had been doing research. 

Cornflower held up the staff. “It’s not exactly-”

“I know, I know.” Methuselah brushed the fact away by batting a paw. “But you hold it that way, and you swing it that way. Have you not fought with a blade before, daughter?”

Cornflower almost laughed, the notion was so ridiculous. But she observed the dead serious look on Methuselah's face, and adopted one similar. “No, I haven’t. The closest I’ve gotten is knives in the kitchens, I’m afraid.”

Methuselah huffed a sigh. “That’s very interesting, yes it is.” 

“Why is that?” asked Cornflower. She could tell that he was thinking hard, putting pieces together in his mind, and she began to feel the excitement of history and legends and research. The dusty gatehouse was full of it. 

“You look like you’ve held a sword before,” Methuselah answered, pushing his glasses up. “You look exactly like you’ve held a sword before. From where I was standing, I would have believed it was a sword.”

“Well, Constance did say I was good at this stuff,” returned Cornflower. She looked down at the staff. It was, sadly, not a sword, and had never been a sword, but there was an adventure building in the old gatekeeper’s words that she could feel in the air all around them. 

“Did she,” Methuselah commented, not a question. “I think we should take a walk, you and I. Let’s see how things are going inside the Abbey.”

Cornflower stood and helped him up. “Very well, Methuselah.” She tried to figure out where he would lead her, what they were doing, but she couldn’t. She just followed him as he tottered around, through passages and halls. Until they came to a stop right before-

“Martin,” whispered Methuselah, staring up at the tapestry. 

The hall it hung in was eerily silent, like it was directing their attention towards the piece of fabric that hung there. Generations of handwork had gone into it, detailing the adventures of the first Abbey warrior, Martin. 

Cornflower looked at it, as if in a thrall, for a while. “Why have we come here, brother?”

“He will help us win this war,” Methuselah said, his voice sounding more ancient than usual. 

“How?” asked Cornflower, looking at Martin, embroidered into the fabric. 

Methuselah looked at her. 

And she kept looking at Martin. He was regal in armor, silver, a shield on his left arm, held before him. He stood like he knew he had already won, despite the hordes of villains surrounding him. He had a brave, stoic expression on his face, a shine on his armor, his initial on his shield, and his arm on his sword. His beautiful sword that had been reforged in the center of a volcano, that was made of the metal from a star, that had a ruby inlaid in the handle. His sword… Cornflower let out a breath. “We need Martin’s sword.”

A smile spread across Methuselah’s face. 

“But where can we find it? The Abbey lost it a long time ago, there isn’t even a hint towards where to start, right?” Cornflower stared at the embroidered rendition of the sword. 

“The first step would not be to find the sword,” Methuselah said craftily, voice thin with age, “but to find Martin’s tomb.”

A shiver went through Cornflower. The thought that the great warrior was buried anywhere, let alone inside the Abbey, where he was rumored to have been put to rest, unsettled her. “His grave has been lost.” 

“Not in location,” Methuselah replied. “In time. If we go back far enough into the Abbey’s records, I’m sure we’ll find something.”

Cornflower felt an uncrushable excitement building in her chest. The prospect of resisting a siege and perhaps fighting a war seemed much less daunting now that there was the start of a plan to recover the sword. If they had the it… It was said that vermin would run from Martin without a fight. 

“I will go back and look through my record books,” Methuselah said. “There must be a hint as to where he lays.”

“Alright, let’s go.” Cornflower lifted the staff off the wall where she’d leaned it as they talked. 

Methuselah chuckled. “I don’t expect a young one like you to be able to sit through all that! Constance needs you out on the grounds, remember you walked out on your training.”

“But I want to help,” said Cornflower, and since Methuselah had pointed out the likeness between her staff and a sword, she found herself standing with it almost exactly like Martin stood with his blade in the tapestry. 

“Between you and me, Cornflower,” Methuselah said under his breath, “I think those creatures out there could use someone as naturally talented as you to nudge them in the right direction before Constance shoves them there.”

Cornflower blushed, feeling a fierce sense of pride rise up in her. “Oh. You’re right, brother. I should get back to that. Fetch me if you find anything.”

“I will,” Methuselah promised, and watched the young field mouse sprint off down the hallway, staff waving wildly in her paw. He turned and looked back at the tapestry briefly. “I know you can hear me,” he said, looking at the threads that formed the warrior. He let out a long sigh that devolved into a rattly cough, and he hunched over on his walking stick. He finally said, “A hint would be nice, you know.” Another cough. “Very well. Don’t talk, then. I don’t have much time left, though, and an achievement like finding your crypt would make all these seasons of writing like a fool worth it.” There was a touch of bitterness in the old mouse’s voice, and he turned away from the tapestry and began to make his way down the hall.


	3. The Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> after cluny is denied access to redwall he sends a spy in secretly, not to claim the abbey but to claim the thing that will allow it to fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's a mole in this chapter and while i did put in some of the speech tendencies i didn't full on write the accent, i'm sorry brian jacques, i hope its ok

The night after her breakthrough with Methuselah and their mutual promise to pursue the lead of Martin’s tomb, a shadow crept over the walls of the Abbey. The walls were a towering blockade of red sandstone reaching up into the sky, and stood almost as tall as the Abbey itself did. They had been carved out of the same quarry the Abbey’s stones were by the paws of Germaine and her followers when Redwall was first founded, many seasons ago. They had weathered attacks and storms and had not crumbled or weakened. They were unbreakable, and there had certainly been attempts to break them. The walls were as much a part of Redwall as the Abbey was, they were the ship’s hull, keeping out the waves, they were a breakwater from the harshness of the world outside. Even the best squirrel climbers in the Abbey couldn’t scale them.

The walls were by definition unbreachable, and yet a breach was made that night. Slowly, carefully, claw over claw, something hauled itself up those walls. This was something it had done before, as it approached the obstacle with a methodical precision, mapping out the wall with spectacular night vision and locating paw holds that could be used. It was a tedious climb but the creature seemed to show no wear, pressing surely forward stone by stone.

It was sent by Cluny. It served seldom other use in the warlord’s hordes, having muscle in the wrong places to be a fighter and being only skilled in the use of a short dagger. Well, and in climbing. Scaling structures, walls, even trees, was easy for it. It lived to climb. 

The one thing that could throw off its internal rhythm, the natural steady placement of its paws, was knowing that Cluny waited on the road at the bottom of the wall, waiting. If it didn’t come back with what Cluny ordered, it would face the wrath of the warlord’s whip. If it fell for some reason from the wall as it climbed, Cluny would show it no mercy. That is, if it was still alive. The drop from the wall was dizzying, even for such an experienced climber.

Inside the Abbey, past the sleepy sentries so out of their element that stood along the wall, past the watchful eye of Constance, past her sleeping family, Cornflower was once again restless. She closed her eyes and pulled up her blankets, fully intending to go to sleep, but sleep never came. Her mind was full of the mysteries of the Abbey history. The more she thought about it, the more she realized she didn’t know, and that intrigued her even further. There was so much lore, so many adventures that she’d never learned about, and that Methuselah had opened her eyes to. She knew that Germaine founded the Abbey, and that she’d come from a place called Loamhedge, but then she didn’t know where Loamhedge was, or what it was like, or why it was abandoned. And every myth or bit of history she thought through she found herself lacking similar knowledge. 

Martin would clarify things, she knew. If she could just get out of the room without waking her father up, she would be able to sneak out to the tapestry and clear her head, maybe get some answers. 

Cornflower sat up slowly in bed, craning her neck to make sure her family was sound asleep in the moonlight. Her father wasn’t in his bed, she noticed, and a pang of anxiety ran through her before she remembered that it was simply his turn to stand guard up on the wall. That made the nighttime journey to the tapestry easier, and she mentally thanked whoever had drawn up the guard schedule as she got out of bed and headed to the door leading to the hallway. 

As she opened the door, there was a noise. At first she thought it was the door, and after she got over how startling it was she ran out of the room and shut it behind her before anyone woke up. As she got her breath back she realized that a door didn’t make that kind of noise. It was an immense clatter, and she thought she’d even heard a voice, maybe two.

Fear crept up inside her, because she didn’t know what was going on. It could just be someone on their way to the kitchen for a midnight snack who tripped over a bench. But in the pit of her stomach there was a feeling that told her it wasn’t just an Abbey resident, and she started off down the hallway as fast as she could go. Her mind was only occupied by one thing- to get to the tapestry. If she got there, then she’d be able to figure everything out. 

As she ran, her fear really took hold of her, and on occasion she would look back, panicked, to make sure there was nobody behind her. 

She finally reached the tapestry, skidded to a halt on the cold stone floor in front of it. She took a few deep breaths, looking up at it. There was indeed a certain clarity that came with the tapestry. She started to think on the mystery of the grave, and if she really wanted to find it. When things have been buried forever, is it really wise to unearth them? Even if it might save the Abbey?

The moonlight shone right on Martin, and she watched as the silk that wove him gleamed as he moved gently in the wind.

Wait- no, there wasn’t any wind in the corridor, Cornflower held up a paw to make sure. The air around the tapestry was stock still, hanging much like the tapestry should. And yet it was moving, flowing. Cornflower narrowed her eyes, but it was so hard to make things out in just moonlight. 

The tapestry moved more suddenly then, there was a sharp tug through the fabric, and to Cornflower’s horror, a rip appeared.

“Hey!” she called out, without thinking. She clasped a paw to her mouth. 

The movement stopped for a moment, then started going faster. 

She couldn’t just stand there, she had to do something. So she grabbed a broom leaning up against the wall and whacked the tapestry with it where it had been moving. And then again, for good measure. 

Out of the darkness surrounding the moonlight beam came a creature she had never seen before. It couldn’t be a rat, but it also couldn’t be a stoat or a weasel, and it was some disconcerting mix of the three. It was lithe, unnaturally so, strong but thin in a way that made it look elongated. It let out a low hiss. 

Cornflower hit it over the head with the broom handle.

It stretched out an arm and knocked her to the ground with ease. 

Cornflower watched from the floor, too stunned to move, as it ripped Martin free of the tapestry and took off down the hall. She got up, but too slowly, so she had to run after it. “Help! Help! The tapestry- someone’s taking the tapestry!” she cried as loudly as she could. She followed the shadow up and up and up, and finally they were on the spiral staircase leading to the wall. “There’s no way down,” she called. If she wasn’t strong enough to stop it yet, maybe she could distract it and delay it until someone else got here. 

It turned to look at her after that, both of them poised on the stairs. 

“There isn’t a way down from the wall,” she repeated. “The doors are all on the ground floor.”

It cocked its head. 

“Well, why would we put doors up higher? Unless we built stairs down from them, and that’s an extra hassle if I’ve ever heard of one,” Cornflower bantered, fear burning in her throat. Someone else had better find them, and fast. “No, the wall has no doors. What are you planning on doing once you reach it, flying away? I don’t see any wings, so-”

With an immense thudding of paws, Constance came bowling around the corner and raced for the stairs. She’d heard the noise and come immediately. 

The creature, upon seeing her, started running again, streaking up the stairs.

Constance followed it. As she passed Cornflower, she spat out a, “Stay here.”

Cornflower followed Constance as closely as Constance was following the thing. 

It led them to the wall, as she had expected, and she couldn’t make it past Constance or the thing before they got up to the open air. She was still on the stairs, looking up through the open door to the wall, when she saw the shadow slice through the guard standing duty. She wasn’t sure if it had used its claws or if it had a dagger. 

She was racing towards the door and by the time she passed through it, coming to a stop on the wall, chest heaving, she was too far back from the creature to do anything up watch as Constance gave it a smooth, neat shove and it plummeted over the edge down towards the road. 

There hadn't been any resistance. None of the strength it showed pushing her had shown then, it had just slipped away like a piece of black cloth with nothing inside. 

“He still has the tapestry!” roared Constance, turning to where she knew Cornflower had followed, unheeding of her instructions. “We might catch him while he’s still alive, go, go! I’ll take care of him.” She turned her head sharply towards the crumpled guard to indicate. 

Cornflower nodded, pulled out of the stupor of the moment. She traced her steps back down the stairs and ran and ran through the Abbey, knowing that the fall would take most if not all of a life, and she had limited time to get to the shadow. 

She passed several creatures who had been woken by the chase through the Abbey or by her yells, their sleepy eyes following her as she went by. 

She crossed the grounds and came to a halt by the gatehouse. She lifted the bars up off the doors and began to push, attempting to move them on her own. Methuselah and several other creatures who had been in the gatehouse came out to help, murmuring amongst themselves. 

Methuselah followed her through the door, and held his paws over his mouth when he saw the shadow. It was crumpled on the road, bent in a way creatures shouldn’t bend, and even now, with a lantern brought by one of the other gatehouse mice, it was impossible to tell where the cloak ended and the fur began. Even in the light, and even in death, it was unknowable. 

Cornflower knelt by it. She knew it had hurt an Abbey creature, but it still made her chest constrict to see it in this much pain. “Can you hear me?” she asked. She wasn’t sure if it was still alive or if its eyes were just open. 

A rattling, labored hiss escaped the creature’s lips. 

“Alright, if you just hold on, there’ll be a healer around,” Cornflower said, knowing in the back of her mind that even if someone had already left to fetch medicine, they wouldn’t make it back in time. “Why did you take it?”

It began to laugh. Or to cough, with a kind of twisted mirth behind it. 

“Why just Martin, why not the whole thing? Where is it? Why?” Cornflower demanded, paws going to search the creature’s cloak almost of their own accord. 

“He matters,” whispered the shadow, its words clouded with the threat of death. “The rest of it is string and dye but he matters.” 

“Where is it? Where did you put it?” cried Cornflower, getting more desperate. She turned round for a moment, looking back to Methuselah and the small crowd of creatures gathered in the gateway. They all looked as lost as she felt. 

The shadow reached up a paw weakly, snagged her nightgown with it and dragged her down so she was close enough to hear it speak. “Martin is with Cluny now.” And then another hissing exhale, and then nothing. 

Cornflower leapt to her feet, dragged a paw down her face. “Martin… Cluny took Martin,” she said to the crowd, her voice weak. “Someone- the body-” She looked down at the shadow, lifeless as it had always been, just still now as well. 

She watched blankly as a set of hedgehogs came forwards at the bidding of the Abbot, who had appeared in the gate as well. They gingerly picked up the corpse and brought it to the side of the road, marking out measurements for a grave. 

“Cornflower,” Constance said, and she sounded sobered. 

Cornflower turned around and went to Constance, leaning her face into the badger’s chest. 

“You were very brave tonight,” Constance murmured. “You did everything you could.”

“Cornflower?” Matthias this time. 

Cornflower stood back to see him. His paws were clasped together, and he looked disheveled, and he looked shocked. “You have to come inside- your father-” And he stopped, his voice breaking. 

Ice filled Cornflower’s stomach up as she followed him back into the Abbey, Constance and Methuselah trailing her. Too much had happened for her to reason what Matthias was bringing her to, but she’d known him long enough to know when he was scared, and when he was sad, and he was both now.

Matthias led them up the stairs to the infirmary, where a healer molemaid was bent over a body. 

The healer looked up when they came through the door, and approached them, her long claws fiddling with her apron. “I’m sorry I have to be the one to tell you this, miss.”

Cornflower squinted at her, confused, and she became even more confused and disoriented when she saw her mother and little siblings in the room. She almost felt like she was dreaming, had the chase and the fear not been so real. Maybe a nightmare, then. “What?”

“That there beast who’s toppled o’er the wall got a slice in before he went,” the healer said, sounding very upset. 

“I know, I saw, is the guard alright?” Cornflower asked, still unsure why she was there. The events of the night had reduced her brain to a muddled mess. She needed rest before she could think anything through. 

“Oh, hurr,” the healer worried. “Miss, the guard was your father.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! next chapter should be up soon! i'm on tumblr @eulaliaaaaaa (six a's omg) for anyone who wants to come chat about the fic with me!  
> comments and kudos are always appreciated.


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